


Living Dead Doll

by EbonyMortisRose



Series: The story of Aubrey Jones [5]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyMortisRose/pseuds/EbonyMortisRose
Summary: Aubrey is about to find out the hard way that it's not just adults that return from the dead.
Series: The story of Aubrey Jones [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836406
Kudos: 6





	Living Dead Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Warning that this story contains a homophobic slur.

The man's eyes fluttered open and seemed to need to take a moment to focus on Aubrey.  
His hazel eyes looked almost black in the gloom of the cellar. As they roamed his face trying to lock on to familiar territory.  
  
“Mr McKenzie, are you alright?” Aubrey asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice.  
  
“Fuck me...mi ed.” - The man groaned in his deep northern accent.  
  
He then attempted to sit up. Brushing aside pieces of drywall and rotted timber, that had fallen on him when he had smacked into the wall.  
But Aubrey motioned for him to remain seated. Noting that blood still ran freely down the side of the man's face, from a nasty gash at his temple.  
There was no way he could carry the hulk of the man out of this building if he collapsed, he thought.  
  
“Sir, please remain where you are. The rest of the team are on their way. Mr Williams, the medic will be amongst their ranks. You took quite the tumble down those steps.”  
  
The man blinks again and wipes a calloused hand over his scarred face. His brow then furrows as he looks up at Aubrey studying his features.  
When recognition finally does dawn on the man’s face, he can't help notice it’s not a happy expression that settles there.  
  
“Oh, Toffy?...fucking great, of all the people.”  
  
“Yes Sir. It is I, Mr Jones.” He tried to sound chipper, even though he most certainly was not.  
  
The man's eyes then suddenly shot wide. And he turned his head left then right, scanning the darkness around them.  
He then seems to immediately regret that sudden movement. And clasped both his meaty palms to the sides of his head and let out another groan.   
  
“Fuck! - Toff, are you alone?”  
  
The question came out more like a growled accusation, and Aubrey couldn't help but cringe.  
  
“Mr Jenkins is outside, and Mr Harris was sent to fetch the medic.”  
  
“So your fucking alone!” - He hissed through clenched teeth.  
  
He then tried again to get up, but with a growl of frustration slumped back down the wall.  
  
“What have I told you, rookie? Ya stick together!”  
  
His words were barked out with such ferocity, Aubrey could feel the dust coasted spittle hit his face, even from a foot away.  
Disgusted he wiped at his face. Thinking that now was not the time to point out, that the foolhardy man had, in fact, come into this Skal infested house on his own.  
And that, if _he_ had stuck with _his_ team, he would not be in the predicament he was in now.  
  
Aubrey then looked around at his surroundings. They were in the cellar of one of the abandoned tenements. Now sadly not an unusual sight, in the poor rotting district of Whitechapel.  
He began to sweep his lantern about the small space, looking for anything useful.  
His breath then caught in his throat, as its orange glow picked out the glistening headless corpse of a Skal.  
It was a woman, only confirmed by the tattered remnants of a dress that clung to an emaciated form.  
The double-barrel shotgun that had put her to rest, lay a few feet away, just out of Mr McKenzies reach.  
Even though the ‘woman’ was clearly dead. He was still reluctant to make any sudden moves in her direction. And so cautiously reached out a hand to retrieve the weapon.  
But then he suddenly froze when he heard a faint shuffling sound coming from the stairs behind him. - Then McKenzie hissed out. “Behind you Toff!”   
  
He spins, heart racing and draws his revolver. Ready to prove he was a man of action - but on seeing his target, he freezes.  
Coming slowly down the stone steps, dragging one soiled boot in front of the other, was a little girl. - She couldn't have been no older than Six.   
Her blonde hair was matted with dried blood and hung in greasy strands about her ashen, sunken, and partially rotted face.   
In her little hands he saw to his horror, she held a severed arm like a macabre teddy bear. Clasping it so close to her chest, it had soiled her frilly petticoat a rust dark brown.  
Her head was tilted to one side, as she looked straight at him with clouded blue eyes.  
  
They remained locked, looking at each other like that for what seemed like an eternity. Until The gruff Yorkshireman barked out. “Shoot it!”  
  
He blinks and looks at the pistol in his hand as if it were about to explode. Then, back to the child. “But, it's a child...I can’t!” - His plea comes out in a whisper.   
  
Where were the others he thought? No one told him that children could become Skals. Why didn't they tell him?  
There's then another grunt as he hears the man behind him try to get up once more. But once again with a sigh of frustration, he hears him slide back down the brickwork.   
  
“Jones, ya need ta put it out of its misery. It ain't human anymore. It’s gonna call others!”  
  
His tone is softer, seeming to understand the dilemma he was faced with. But still held some urgency to it.   
His hand began to shake as he aimed the pistol at the little girl's forehead. And still, all she did was stare like a living dead doll right back at him.  
  
“I can not Sir!” - He was begging now and he did not care.  
  
What was he doing here? This wasn’t him. He was a creature of the daylight hours. His tools of trade were brush and pencil, not blades and bullets.  
  
He watched horrified, as yellow puss trickled from a burst boil on the side of the little girl's mouth. The rupture caused by the slow parting of her lips, to reveal rows of blood-stained serrated teeth.   
Her eyes then look passed him to the prone man behind him, and her little nose wrinkled as it sniffed the air.  
It then dropped it’s gruesome body part and began to hunch over, taking on the stance of a wild animal ready to pounce.  
  
McKenzie, even from his position on the floor, must have seen her attention turn to him, as he bellowed out. - Fear lacing his words.  
  
“SHOOT IT, YA FUCKING WEAK ASS TOFFY POOF!”  
  
The bellowing command reverberated in the small space, making him jump and squeeze the trigger on reflex - just as the ‘doll’ leapt.  
  
**********  
  
He looked at the large empty bottle in his hands, glad that the warming contents had done their stated job and settled his nerves.  
It had taken off the harsh corners of the world, making the earlier events of the evening seem like a fading nightmare.  
His hands had been trembling so bad, he had to use his teeth to unscrew the cap. And almost downed all its contents there and then.  
The chemist, who recommended the dosage on the label of 2 tablespoons before bedtime, clearly did not have his vocation in mind, he pondered.  
  
He was sat on a small border wall, that ran the perimeter of the warehouse that they were currently calling headquarters.  
There was a buzz of activity behind him, as other guardsmen were packing up, ready for the relocation to the now-abandoned Grand theatre.  
  
Seeing the state he was in after tonight's escapade. Mr McCullum had suggested, that his time might be better suited to organising the assorted ephemera they had acquired over the years.  
The bits and pieces were currently housed in several trunks and creates; some were even rumoured to contain holy relics.  
He had explained that he had assigned him this task because he was the best man for the job. Coming from a highly educated background, and knowing far more languages than in some men's cases, barely one.  
But his dark thoughts began to betray him, and he knew deep down that he was just being given a task that no one else wanted.  
He could imagine the meeting, with them all agreeing to stick the ‘toff’ in the dark with some books. That's where he belonged, not with us _real_ men on the streets they would have said.  
  
He was shaken from his melancholy by a gruff cough, and with a slightly woozy head he looked up to see the battle-hardened face of Mr McKenzie.  
He now sported a bandage around the crown of his head. And had a strange look upon his face, he had never seen the tough man wear before. - Was that embarrassment? regret?  
  
He coughs again, seeming to feel the need to take a moment to gather his words, then says.  
  
“Hey, To... - Aubrey. I’m sorry for what I said, back there in that shit hole. I didn’t mean it. It was just…”

His brows furrow trying to find further words his lips were obviously not used to speaking. He began to rub the back of his neck probably trying to force more uncommon, _soft_ terms out of his throat.  
And he was half tempted to let the man squirm, but being the soft-hearted idiot he was, he simply raised a hand to halt his agonising.  
  
“Mister McKenzie, we say things we regret in times of stress. But also truths, that can cut right to the bone. But I do accept your apology.”  
  
Relief washes over the man's tired and scarred face, and he nods.  
  
“I’m glad. I Heard ya got assigned ta crate duty.”  
  
"Yes.” - He can't stop the bitterness coming out in his tone.  
  
“Ya know why you got that job?”  
  
Here it comes he thought, after all, he had gone through tonight, the man couldn't wait to rub his nose further in the dirt.  
  
“Please do tell me.” He sighed out.  
  
“It’s coz only a few of us can read, let alone write. Boss knows there's good stuff in those boxes and books. But he doesn't have the time ta go through em all, him sen. Ya were a god send to him when ya joined our ranks you know.”  
  
Aubrey's mouth turned from a bitter sneer to all-out gaping at the end of his statement.  
The man was clearly conversing in uncomfortable territory, by the way, he had taken to chewing his bottom lip and not meeting Aubrey's gaze.  
He was one of them, he thought. He couldn't read or write, or both.  
He knew most of the working classes were illiterate. But for this big man to nearly openly admit that he had this flaw, this weakness, astounded him.  
  
Mr McKenzie was of the breed of men that did not do well on any topic that broached ‘feelings.’ And so his next statement came out rather rushed.  
As if he didn't want anyone else to hear. Even though they were far from the men working by the entrance.   
  
“You did good tonight, ya saved mi life ya know. I owe ya. I mean that, thanks."  
  
Aubrey was flabbergasted. The man didn't think he was a coward after all. He was actually, genuinely offering to repay the favour. He actually saw him as a fellow brother in arms.  
His mind drifted back to the conversation with Mr McCullum, about his new role as the guard's archivist. And actually saw it for the suggestion it was, not given as a punishment, but as an assignment given to a guardsman fit for the task.  
He was a fool to doubt his motives. He was their leader, it was his job to give the soldiers under his command the right tasks, for the betterment of the whole group.  
His job was just as vital to the war against evil as any fellow soldier out in the field.  
And he suddenly felt a swell of pride, and whispered to himself. - "I won't let you down sir."  
  
“Eh? -what was that Toff?”  
  
He smiled, noting McKenzie had reverted back to his nickname again, things in the man’s mind had clearly returned to the correct status quo.  
  
“Oh, nothing Mister McKenzie.”  
  
“Well if ya av finish moping, do ya want to help me load up tha waggon?”  
  
His world spun slightly as he slid off the wall and grinned up at the burly man.  
  
“I shall acquiesce to your request, Mister Mckenzie.”  
  
“Does that mean fuckin yes?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“Why don't ya fuckin talk right?”  
  
“Forgive me, Mister Mckenzie, if my eloquent mode of speech confounds you. And I thank you for your earlier show of solicitude. I was deeply touched.”  
  
“I'm gonna belt ya if ya carry on.” The playful glint in the man's eyes as he spoke, betrayed his harsh words. Then he just smirked and shook his head.  
  
Aubrey returned the smile. Then placed the empty tonic bottle he was still holding back in his pocket, as a reminder to purchase two more in the morning. And he thinks to himself, it would be a good idea to pick up a little something 'extra', to help him focus on the arduous task ahead.   
Then, riding on a pink fuzzy cloud of euphoria he plodded back inside eager to prove his worth.


End file.
